by Zoey Parker
Dante planted a kiss on the top of my head. My hair was still soaked from the shower, and the post-fuck hormones drifting through my veins were making me feel sleepy and content.
“I don’t think you’re an idiot,” Dante said, softer than ever. He kissed the top of my head again, and I felt a touch of something warm blooming in my chest.
“Do you still think I’m a spoiled brat?” I almost feared the answer. My words hung in the dark room.
“No,” he replied in a scratchy voice. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me closes still until my head was resting on his chest. “I don’t think you’re a brat, Katia.”
Chapter Eleven
Katia
The next morning, I awoke before Dante. We’d fallen asleep, tangled in the silk sheets of my bed. My blackout curtains were drawn, and even though the light was as dull as it would have been in the late evening, I knew it was probably around nine or ten in the morning.
I’d always loved to sleep in. Back when I was growing up, my mom had always told me that sleeping in made me lazy, but I didn’t care. It was the one vice I’d maintained all through childhood. I wouldn’t have admitted this to anyone, except maybe Dante, but I was sure that going through leukemia at such a young age had something to do with it, too. After all, I could still close my eyes and remember what it felt like to have poisonous toxins flooding through my body. What they don’t tell you about cancer is that the treatment makes you wish you were already dead.
I yawned and stretched and curled up closer to Dante’s warm body. My air conditioning was pumping arctic air into the room since I could never sleep unless it was freezing, and Dante’s warm body was a comfort. I loved the way he smelled; even when he hadn’t smoked in a couple of days, I could still catch the faint whiff of tobacco clinging to his hair and clothes.
“Mmm,” Dante groaned, but he didn’t wake as I slid my hand over his body and pulled him close. We snuggled, and I wrapped an arm around his shoulders, fitting myself against his back. I smiled to myself. Who would have guessed that cuddling Dante was one of life’s greatest pleasures?
I’d never been much of a snuggler. I didn’t enjoy spending too much time with guys after sleeping together. It was usually awkward. After the passion and romance had died down, I had a hard time wanting to even look at them. I even had a routine going. After I’d have sex, I’d make some coffee and hint that I needed to get some sleep. Most guys didn’t take the hint so easily, though, so then I’d pour myself a big steaming mug and say that I had a lot of work to do.
That would usually do the trick. By the time my coffee had cooled to a proper temperature, I’d be alone again.
I’d always been called a bitch, an ice queen, and a “frigid woman.” I didn’t exactly enjoy those nicknames, but I knew they were given for a reason. Sure, it went against what popular culture taught us: all women want is a snuggle and a cuddle and a giant engagement ring from Tiffany’s.
I’d always been so focused on my career that snuggling up and wasting time with some random guy just didn’t appeal to me. I mean, we’d had sex. They’d made me come, they’d done their job. That was it. I didn’t want a boyfriend, at least, not unless Zac Efron magically became single and showed up at my front door wanting a date.
But now, unfortunately, I didn’t feel any of that non-attachment. When I looked at Dante’s sleeping face, his big hooded eyes, his scruffy chin, I felt something strange and warm come to life beneath my breast. This wasn’t exactly a great thing, I knew. It was alien and strange. It also made me uncomfortable. What about Dante was pulling me in like this? Why wasn’t I just able to stand my ground and say, “Go away, I’m not interested”?
Because you are interested , a nasty little voice said in the back of my mind. You’re way too interested, and you want this guy around for the long haul .
I swallowed nervously. Lying here and worrying wasn’t going to fix anything. I knew that if I wanted to calm down, I’d have to go take a long hot shower. My eyes flicked over Dante as I sat up in bed and swung my legs over the side. He was breathing very slowly and snoring softly, but he didn’t even stir as I climbed out of bed and wrapped a satin robe around my body.
Shivering, I walked to my bedroom door and slowly swung it open. As I walked down the hall, I half-expected Dante to leap out of bed and follow me. I was almost disappointed and surprised by the time I’d made it to the master bath without his heavy footfall behind me.
The shower was still damp from the day before. I grinned and blushed as I remembered the sensation of Dante’s rough hands trailing all over my body, making me feel more desirable than I’d ever felt before in my life. There was something about him, a certain rough way of his, that left me wet and wanting more. Even now, sore as I was, I couldn’t help but think about how nice it would be if Dante woke up and decided to surprise me in the shower.
Humming to myself, I plugged my iPod into the shower speakers and put on the newest Shakira album. The music energized and refreshed me, and soon I was dancing in the hot spray of water, soaping my body with one hand. I’d always loved the ritual of bathing. Something about it was almost as good as getting dressed up in a designer gown and having a professional do my makeup. In a way, it was therapy that a star like me craved, and right now was no exception.
As I dipped my head under the rainforest spray, I closed my eyes as the warm water soaked through my thick hair to my scalp. Rubbing shampoo into my hair, I groaned softly and massaged my head with my long fingers.
This was the point in my grooming ritual where I very nearly forgot about everyone but myself. But annoyingly enough, Dante was still on my mind. Damn! I thought as I rinsed my hair and reached for my professional leave-in treatment. Why the hell can’t I stop thinking about him?
My heart skipped a beat in my chest as I opened my eyes and massaged the conditioning treatment into my long, blonde locks. Something about my own touch on my scalp made me think of Dante’s hands on my body again, and before I knew it, I was starting to get wet. My lower belly clenched with arousal, and I felt my nipples stiffen under the soapy spray of water.
Now, I couldn’t wait to finish washing up. I rinsed my hair under the shower stream and stretched. Leaning against the wall, I placed my hands against the tile and braced my legs until my spine popped. I sighed and moaned as the feeling of exquisite release shook my body. It may not have been as good as being in bed with Dante, but it was definitely a close second.
I wrung my hair out and turned off the shower before grabbing a plush towel and wrapping it around my naked body. As I toweled my hair off, I reached forward and wiped the foggy mirror with my hand. I frowned at my appearance. Something about the way I looked with wet hair had never felt particularly satisfying to me, especially when I wasn’t wearing any makeup.
But Dante won’t care , I thought. A secret smile played across my lips as I thought about the way he’d looked at me the first time he’d ever seen me naked. The hunger in his eyes had been the most obvious, sexy thing in the world. I realized that I’d always wanted a man to look at me like that, but even though a lot of men did, it hadn’t ever felt fulfilling until I’d met Dante.
I shook excess water out of my hair and rolled my eyes. I didn’t know what the hell was wrong with me. I was being stalked! Yet, all I could think about was Dante. His smoky dark eyes. The way his scruff clung to his chin. The way his big strong hands moved over my body with confidence and ease.
I sighed softly. There was no doubt about it. I was a goner.
I peeked into my bedroom and let out a little sigh when I saw Dante curled up in my silky bed. The blackout curtains were still doing a good job of keeping all the excess light away, but I could make out Dante’s outline. He was lying on his side with his head under a pillow, snoring softly, his arm draped over his face.
I grinned. It was so cute; he looked like a little kid. I made a mental note to ask him about why he slept with a pillow over his head like that. The first time I’d seen him do
it, I was worried that he was going to somehow suffocate. But now, I was used to it.
My insides felt all hot and fluttery as I sat down gingerly on the edge of the bed. Dante’s snoring paused briefly, then continued. I smiled as I let my towel drop to the floor and tucked my feet up underneath me. The silk sheet was cool, and a musky scent was emanating from the bed. My grin widened as I recognized it as the smell of Dante and myself together.
Dante grunted in his sleep. He rolled over, keeping his face tucked under the pillow. I’d been planning to seduce him immediately, but I couldn’t bear the thought of waking him up now that I was actually back in bed. As I tugged the sheet over my hips, I wrapped an arm around Dante’s waist and pulled him close. He snuggled against me without waking. I closed my eyes and pressed my face against the back of his neck. Breathing in Dante’s scent was enough to relax me; it was better than taking a Xanax.
For a few moments, I thought I was close to falling asleep again. I sighed and snuggled closer into the mattress. My wet hair was starting to feel uncomfortably chilly, and I wriggled my head around on the pillow, trying to find a comfortable spot when the damp wasn’t pressed against my scalp.
Suddenly, there was a buzzing noise. With a groan, I sat up and clapped a hand to my forehead. My phone was on the nightstand, plugged into the charger and twitching like a fish. If I didn’t make a grab for it, it was going to clatter onto the floor and surely wake Dante up.
As quickly as I could, I launched myself to the right and grabbed my phone from the charger. Without looking at the screen, I slid my finger over the lock and held the phone to my ear.
“Hello?” I said quietly. “Anya, you know you shouldn’t be calling me this early! I hate being woken up!”
I expected my assistant, Anya Bellaire, to respond with a snappy comeback. Even though Anya and I had been working together for years, we still got on each other’s nerves. We were closer than sisters, but we never forgot about our professional relationship, which did sometimes make things awkward. I knew Anya loved me, and she’d probably just forgotten about the rule. After all, most adults don’t sleep until eleven in the morning every day.
“Anya?” I hissed when there was no reply. “What the hell? Did you pocket dial me again?” I rolled my eyes and pulled the phone away from my ear. My stomach lurched to the side as I tapped the screen.
It wasn’t Anya. It was the same unknown number; the same asshole who had been harassing me before. With a nervous gulp, I pulled the phone closer to my ear.
“I just want you to know that this is unacceptable,” I said as calmly as I could manage. “In fact, my bodyguard is here, and he’s going to hurt you unless you leave me alone.”
Puffing out my chest in pride at how I’d handled the situation, I smirked and waited for an answer. It was probably nothing. Probably just some little kid who wanted attention. I half-expected a whiny voice to complain before hanging up. But there was still silence. I swallowed nervously; something about the silence made me feel even more nervous than I would have been with a response.
I swallowed. “Hello?”
A sound made me jump. I almost dropped the phone into my lap. Instead, I held my breath and listened quietly to the earpiece.
There was the sound of breathing—heavy, labored breathing. Like someone had been carrying heavy boxes up three flights of stairs, someone who hadn’t worked out in over a year. I gasped sharply and hung up, dropping the iPhone into my lap with a cry of fear.
Dante was awake immediately. He’d thrown the pillow to the side, and his dark blue eyes were alert and focused. He didn’t look like he’d just woken up; he looked like he’d just gotten out of a fight, breathing hard and ready to defeat his attacker.
“Katia!” Dante’s voice thundered. “What the hell happened?”
I swallowed nervously and stared at him. My wet hair clung to the back of my neck, and I was aware for the first time since coming into bed that I was nude. But Dante wasn’t even looking at my chest; his eyes were locked on mine, staring me down. If I hadn’t been completely and totally panicked, the attention would have been enough to make me blush.
“Katia, what the fuck?” Dante asked softly. “Did he call again?”
I nodded, glancing down at my lap and staring at my iPhone. It was hard to believe such an innocuous, beautiful little object could cause so much stress and alarm.
“Yeah,” I mumbled. “I was in the shower, and I’d just come back to bed.” Nervously, I grabbed my phone and flicked through the missed calls. “He didn’t call when I was out of bed,” I added. Licking my lips, I threw my phone to the side. “I don’t know what to do… Dante, what the hell is going on? Why won’t he leave me alone?”
Dante didn’t reply. He pulled me into a hug and wrapped his strong arms around my body. “Katia, he’s a sick man. But we’re going to keep you safe.” He pulled away, and I realized that he had an erection under the sheets. But all of my desire that had built up during my shower was fading away, and I knew that I couldn’t try to seduce him now. It wouldn’t work. He was clearly focused on my stalker, and I was too freaked out from that damn stupid phone call.
Dante climbed out of bed. I admired the sculpted cheeks of his ass as he pulled on a pair of plaid pajama pants. They hung tantalizingly low on his body, showing off just enough of his hips to make me want more. I blushed when Dante caught my glance.
“Hey,” Dante said. “Come on, Katia. Let’s go make breakfast. Hell, I’ll do it. You want an omelet?”
I raised my eyebrows at him. “You know how to make omelets?”
Dante looked wounded. “Baby, of course I do,” he said smoothly. A burst of warmth rocketed through my veins at the way he said ‘baby.’
“What?” Dante asked. “You’re staring.”
“It’s nothing,” I replied with a smirk. I walked over to my dresser, knowing that even though sex wasn’t in the cards for the immediate future, Dante’s eyes were clinging to my naked frame.
“Bullshit it is,” Dante retorted. “What’s on your mind?” I glanced over at him, and he was still smirking at me. “Tell me, Katia. It might pertain to your safety, in which case it’s abso-fucking-lutely my business.”
“It’s nothing about that.” I pulled a pink satin peignoir from the dresser and wrapped it around my body. “It’s just—Well—I used to hate being called babe.”
“Should I stop?” Dante leaned against the doorway and crossed his muscular arms over his chest. “Is it something that really bothers you that much?”
I shook my head. “No. I actually—Well, I actually kind of like it now.” I sniffed. “I used to bite guys’ heads off just for calling me that, and now it’s like…” I trailed off, blushing. “It’s like I want to hear that in your voice all day. I just really like it.”
Dante smirked. “Come on, babe. Time for omelets.”
Twenty minutes later, I was staring down at the crystal plate in disbelief. A perfectly fluffy and folded omelet rested in front of me.
“I didn’t even know I had eggs on hand,” I mumbled as I reached for my fork. “Are you serious?”
Dante smirked. “I have to cook for the guys sometimes. Y’know, back at the clubhouse.”
“You cook omelets for your biker buddies?” I covered my mouth with my hand so Dante wouldn’t hear me giggling. “That’s too much. Do you guys sit around with cute little linen napkins, too?”
Dante rolled his eyes. “Eat your damn breakfast before it gets cold.” I watched as he liberally dribbled hot sauce all over his omelet before daintily cutting a piece away with a shining-silver fork.
“This is good.” I chewed and swallowed, savoring the rich taste of cheese and butter.
Dante had included some sautéed mushrooms and peppers, and that along with the tangy scent of cheddar was enough to make me drool even though I’d already started eating. He’d even garnished the top with a fresh sprig of parsley. The whole damn thing was incredible. I couldn’t believe it. I was even scrap
ing the plate for traces of butter and cheese when I was done.
Dante grinned as he reached down and took my plate. “So, you liked it?”
I tried to keep from begging him immediately for a second omelet. “I loved it.” I groaned and looked down at my lap. “And my thighs already look bigger!”
Dante chuckled. He set the plates in the sink and began rinsing off the grease. “And I used real butter, too. You’re gonna have to starve for a week in order to make up for eating that.”
I sat up straighter in my dining room chair. “Well, that’s fine,” I said. “I don’t mind. It was worth it.”
“Maybe later, I can make dinner,” Dante said, then frowned. “I gotta make a call. I’ll do it in the dining room. Just stay here, okay?”
I nodded. As he left the room, I felt a small wave of panic wash over my body. I shivered. I knew I was being ridiculous, but with Dante around, I just felt so much safer. It was crazy to admit that I felt alone after he’d merely left the room.